The Nail Salon

Vietnamese women chattering
carts with hot sudsy water going clackety clack on the porcelain tile
elegant matrons with their jewels in a pile
awaiting the quick procedures
to make everything beautiful on the outside
while ignoring the inside

I wish there were a salon where I could go
and a gentle woman with a sudsy cart would clean my inside,
trim away the dead places
smooth the chipped and broken edges
and paint my heart a pretty, shiny color.

Jury Duty

Assembled in six lines of six people each
we waited outside the courtroom.
All rise! the bailiff bellowed
and we filed in single file.

Identity theft!
This was a case of identity theft
involving bank fraud
conspiracy
and two black women.
Fury arose within me
remembering Ron
and the 22 charge accounts his caregiver opened in his name.

I looked at those two women
and a part of me turned to steel.
I was freshly outraged on Ron's behalf.

I realized I was too emotional to serve on this jury panel.
I finally told the judge.
It was no surprise when they passed over me
and the three white men who sat with me.

I don't consider myself a racist.
I voted for Obama.
But something about those two black women
triggered racism within me
and I was out for blood.

I'm not sure what to do with this
or where to go with it.
I can only lift my woundedness to God
and pray for God's healing mercy.

Metro Rail Ride

She was headed to Sears, she told me,
This blonde haired woman with thick black eye liner lining her mouth.
She had highlighted her eyes and eyebrows with it too
and filled in her lips with a pale color of pink rimmed with lime green.
I tried not to stare at her bizarre mouth as we talked.
She was bundled in a long sleeved sweat suit jacket zipped tightly around her neck,
and that was topped with another jacket.
She wore white suede boots with fluffy, fake fur tops over her tight jeans
and her breath smelled of alcohol.
Sears was having an 85% sale on their summer things she told me,
an event not to be missed.
I wondered what she would do with them since she was snuggly wrapped for winter
and it was 93 degrees outside.

It was my first ever Metro rail ride in Houston.
I was proud of myself for figuring out how to do it.
The crowd I traveled with this afternoon was surely different from my own tribe.
"You've become enmeshed again, Pat" I told myself.
"You think all people are like the ones at St. Stephen.
Open your eyes. Branch out a little."

My New Collage

A lovely, innocent teenaged girl looks up
full of wonder,
dreaming of possibilities,
and a brand new world opening before her
as she trusts the path to unfold.
Her grandmother above looks at her and smiles at the way she is growing.
To the side, an assertive powerful woman stands tall, ready to protect her.
Danielle Steel is vigilant at her feet,
poised to confront anyone who would try to destroy what God is doing.
The whimsical cat wonders if she can play today.

Drought

Parched
Not enough
Scarcity
The sky is falling!
Panic!

May the living water flow into every crack and crevice
bringing life
abundance
hope
and the living presence of Christ.

The Accuser

It comes so easily,
Inferior!
Not as good as
Trite!
Boring!
The voice hammers on.
Who are you to think you're a writer?
Get off your ass and do something meaningful for a change!
You're washed up
a has been.
No one cares what you write about
not even God.
Give it up.
It's a waste of time.


The Answer with the Non-dominant Hand

It's what I love.
It's what I am called to do.
It's what brings me life.
I don't really care what you think about it.
Leave me alone.

Mary

She teared up when she saw me.
She couldn't talk.
She could only writhe in pain.
How did this happen
to this woman my age?
We walked together in the park and laughed
as we spoke of family, church and God.
Now she lies silent
except for the grimaces of pain that cross her face.

I could only watch quietly
and love her through my tears.
I am powerless to help her
or to do anything to alleviate her aching heart and body.

I pray for Mary
for the peace of Christ to fill her
for God's healing mercies and tenderness to enfold her
for courage and strength to make it through the final part of her journey.

I shall never understand why we have to suffer so.
But Jesus suffered
and out of that terror
came life for all the rest of us.

I don't know how God will use Mary's torment.
We can only offer it to God,
sense God's tears merging with our own,
and know that we are all held together in God's loving kindness
as we anticipate the time of freedom.

Our 44th Wedding Anniversary

We've weathered so many storms together
war
miscarriage
job loss and financial strees
the decline and death of his parents
cancer, kidney stones and heart stints.

But there have been such incredible joys for me -
the feeling of safety whenever he is around
two fabulous children
and three bright and beautiful grandchildren
stability
a shared faith
wonderful trips
a house, a farm and a condo
everything we ever wanted really
God's rich blessing on our life together
his ability to fix anything
and to care so deeply for me.

He pushed me to seminary
drives me to church
listens to my sermons again and again,
often tearing up and always praising them.

He is there for me whenever and however I need him
holding me in his strong arms
blessing me
solving my logistical problems
doing the laundry, the dishes and the food preparation
and staying positive through all of it.

I never met another man I thought I could live with.
I am the center of his life, and I always have been.
He listens to me
and encourages me
and this has been going on for 44 years today.

I love him so.
I always will.
He is my one great true love.

I know our remaining years are numbered.
We've both slowed down.
Little things nip at our heels
fatigue for me
insomnia for him
aches and pains
our great love of food and its devastating effects in our lives

How long do we have together?
10 years?
20?
I pray that we make it to 50.
I pray God remains at the center of our lives.
I pray that we continue to love and care for one another
and enjoy our family.
I pray that one day we can retire without having to live in bare survival mode
hand to mouth.
I pray that our life together be one of service and creativity to the end
that others will be warmed by the Christ light
that brought us together in the first place
and has kept us together for 44 years.

Welcome home

I stood before a uniformed customs agent in Atlanta.
What was the purpose of your trip?
It was a writer's journey.
That's a new one.
What did you do?

We saw the sites and wrote about them.
I filled a notebook full of Prague.
It was really wonderful.

How interesting!
I've never heard that.
Did you bring any fruits or vegetables home with you?
No.
Did you bring any alchohol?
No.
Did you have anything to do with livestock while you were there?
No.
Welcome home!

And so it ended, this eleven day adventure to another world.
The fragrance lingers and has planted itself in my soul.
Today I am filled with gratitude for my traveling companions,
Max, Marcia, Susan, Nancy and Val.
May God guide the rest of their journey
and bring them safely home.

\wednesdaz in prague

friyyz hair
problems bathing
mz cluttered room
are all profoundlz insignificant
as I face the evil of \terrayin.

The same people that fashioned the beautz of Prague
and labored a thousand zears to build a cathedral to the glorz of God
were either complacent
or partners to her great shame.
Prague shows us human depravitz at its worst
and human divinitz in its flowering
like all of us.
Old \calvin got it right.

\the morning after

Mz bodz lies flat todaz.
\grief overwhelms me.
\the now silent suffering of people long gone
rises from the earth
and fells mz tender heart.

terrayin

I went to hell todaz.
\the streets were paved with crueltz.
The walls were lined with silence.


I cried twice todaz in terrayin
once when I read a child§s poem
and again when I saw peonies blooming in the prison zard.

the jewish cemeterz

ancient headstones scattered all cattzwampus on the ground
as though thez are competing with one another to tell their storz.
these people lived.
thez died.
thez passed on the lessons fo faith.
thez are still a communitz in death.
god§s people gathered here
the wisdom of the ages
lazer upon lazer
present with us and readz to pass it on
if we will listen and learn its lessons.

The Pinkas \sznagogue

what would these names of the dead tell us if thez came to life_
\what could we saz to them_
\we could onlz stand and weep
arm in arm
heart to heart
soul to soul
and grasp the outstretched hand of God.

the least favorite part of mz daz

I lower mz chubbz bodz into the deep cavern
and put mz head under the barelz hot water.
I lather it up with shampoo and rinse,
then soap mz bodz up to remove zesterdaz§s sweat and stench.
\verz carefullz I rmove the handle from the side of the wall
and lift the bulb on top of the spout.
I cringe as ice water covers mz bodz.
Nervouslz, because I§ve had accidents
and because mz roommate§s entire wardrobe hangs above mz head,
I guide the wand to mz soapz locks and bodz.
\bz now the water is warm and refreshing.
Push the bulb down,
\replace the dripping wand,
\get on mz knees and verz graduallz exit this experience.
Another \Cyech daz is born.

historz lesson

Peter \svobodnz, \cyech historian, alwazs begins his classes this waz"

Mz grandmother was born in \austria
Mz mother was born in \germanz.
I was born in \cyechoslovakia.
Mz eldest daughter was born in the \cyechoslovak socialist republic.
mz zoungest daughter was born in the cyech republic.
we were all born in the same hospital in prague.

with all these armies coming and going through the centuries it is easz to see whz the arts prevailed so stronglz in this place. the arts are what gave people hope and courage through so manz changes.

there are more theaters in prague than there are in new zork citz = than anz other citz in the world I think although I am not positive about that one.

Memorial \daz

zesterdaz we stood in king wenceslas square and looked at all the colorful and varied buildings that lined the street. max told us to imagine the life of someone in one of the buildings and write their storz. I came up with this one.

Soon he shall come, mz husband, home at last from the war. I am here waiting. It is the sweet time, the time when I can imagine the loving things wqe shall saz to one another. I dream of his caress and the waz he will look at me from across the room.

\does he have the same kind of longing within him that I feel_
How has the war changed him_
He§s probablz not heavz anzmore. I imagine his muscles will be great and strong now, bulging beneath his fair skin.
Will he still have that mane of blonde hair_ Or will thez have cut it all off_
I am grateful it will be just the two of us = free to focus on and love one another without all those other people in the house, without all the well wishers, without so manz chores.

I§ve brought his favorite pipe and the cookies he alwazs loved. I§ve bought the blue plaid shirt and the brown trousers he wore the last time we walked together in the afternoon. I hope he notices that mz hair is different and longer now. I hope his ezes still twinkle. I hope he is still soft and tender on the inside, and that hard places have not formed there because of what he has seen and experienced.

\war can be a terrible thing. It can ravage hearts and lives. I praz that it doesn§t destroz us = that our bond can withstand whatever crueltz comes against us.

A \different Kind of \travel

\thursdaz we stood outsidee the dark foreboding walls of \st. \vitas \cathedral.
in long lines
of hundreds of people.
heavz mesh wire veiled the stained glass.
zears of pollution has dirtied this structure in the thousand zears it took to build it.
once inside our spirits immediatelz soared upward
giving full and rich meaning to the word awesome.
we were indeed filled with awe, pho=bee=ah in the \greek
a profound reverence.

\tour guides in manz different languages
were telling their groups all the facts of this place
who built it
how thez did it
facts and information piled on top of more facts and information.

mz little group was told to wander around on our own for a while,
then write a love letter to whomever we felt led to write to.
some wrote to the cathedral
others to Marz
I wrote to the wounded Jesus being received into his father§s arms,
the xcene in stained glass ovewr the altar.

Max sazs we§re not readz to learn the factual historz of Prague
until Prague has become our personal historz.
that§s what we§re doing here =
embedding Prague into our artists§ souls
and allowing her to have her waz with us.

\this trip will change me.
I§m not sure zet of the wazs.
One thing I know for sure!
I will never again travel anz other waz.

the King's Hall

Writing Prompt: Describe this room by using body parts.

The dancers take their place in the darkness.
The violins are poised and ready for action.
Then as light unfolds individual ballerinas do pirouettes,
their slim bodies with arms held high above their heads form perfect vertical lines.
As the music changes, their bodies become graceful arches,
their arms and hands reaching the distance to one another
until finally they are all connected on the ceiling to form a living flower.
The beauty of their dance lingers for centuries.

Prague

The Challenges of Being in Prague:
1. computers and nearly all of facebook are in Czech and require getting used to.
2. Bathing
3. Sleep deprivation
4. warm weather when I packed for chilly
5. 12-15 hour days, most of which is vigorous walking
6. frizzy hair again - flat iron won't work

The Blessings of Being in Prague:
1. The arts define this city more than any other city on the planet.
2. old world charm and beauty
3. prfoundly spiritual
4. Max handles all logistics
5. the daily writing class and new friends

Near the Charles Bridge

Last evening standing at the edge of the Charles Bridge Max pointed to a wall with scratches on it, some of them deep, and asked us to imagine how they got there. Somewhere deep within me I felt a terrible fear, a fear so overwhelming I didn't want to near it. I could hear within me desperate, blood curdling, primal screams that had once happened there. It was much easier to focus instead on the Lorraine cross above the river and make my wish for the future, that God's peace would rest here.

This afternoon I sat by the edge of Uvoz Street, catching my breath before journeying further up the hill. A car drove by on the ancient cobblestones, but instead of a car I heard the strong forceful sound of horses hooves, lots of them, as though they were part of an army. I felt the same fear I had experienced the evening before beside the Charles Bridge.

Simultaneously church bells began to toll, ringing out from the top of that hill that good trumps evil, that hope can be born in the most dire of curcumstances, that in all the dark and scary places of our lives, God can and will enter if we will allow it.

In the middle of that raw fear I felt the presence of God powerfully in this place. singing the joyful news that truth, beauty, goodness and love and all other noble virtues can never be conqueroed. Though they may be hidden for a time, grace will always rise again.

In some ways I regret knowing so little of Prague and what happened here. But what I can know is that people in this place have sufered immense cruelites. They have been brutalized and ravaged who knows how many times. But God is and has been within this city. The spires of churches everywhere point to heaven, and the creativity on every building, drainage grate and door points to the refusal of these people to live without hope. In the beauty and loveliness of this place the grace of God that has been here for centuries lives on and flows even today like the great river in its center.

Pilgrimage Prayer

A pilgrimage is a sacred journey to a sacred site.
Muslims go to Mecca.
Hindus and Buddhists run off to India.
Jews go to Jerusalem.
So do Christians.
But they go other places too
like Iona
or Snowmass
or Rome
or Assissi,
all the places where the air is thin
where there is only a small distance between humans and the divine.

But Prague?
What's in Prague?
some ancient buildings
a river
statues of John Hus and Good King Wenceslas
But what else?
I know nothing of the city or what awaits me there.
I don't know what to hope for.
I know only that God has called me to this place
with this small group of people who will gather there.
We are strangers now.
I hope it doesn't stay that way.
I pray deep friendships will form,
that we shall write well of our experiences
and that our hearts and lives will be open to wonder and to one another.

I'm reminded of an image last year at El Rocio.
I shaped a bowl out of clay.
I added more and more water to it until it was as smooth as glass.
I was an open bowl waiting to be filled.
the rough edges were gone.

I think that's my prayer upon entering this journey
openness
trust that I shall be filled with presence of God however it comes to me
and that the rough edges will be as smooth as glass.

Anniversary Weekend

The call came early
around 6:30 AM on a Sunday morning before church.
Sylvia's voice was on the other end
I think.
So much has become blurry in this year.
Ron passed away a little while ago.
That's all I remember now of the announcement.
As Ron's friend Ginny heralded the beginning of our friendship
so an impersonal voice on the telephone heralded its end.

Quickly I dressed and drove my tearful self to Pearland.
He was dead all right
lying in his bed hugging his pillow
as I had seen him so often
but the despair was gone.
All darkness had vanished.
On his face was the touch of unmistakable glory.
It was peace, deep and full and overflowing.
He was radiant,
more radiant than I had ever seen anybody anywhere
and I knew at that moment
that he had finally discovered for himself that God is love,
profound, abundant, glorious love.
He had sought love earnestly his entire life
and now it finally had grasped him.

There were tears in my eyes then for his passing from my life
but also for joy that he had finally come into the peace and love
that had eluded him on earth.

Days later I sat with him alone in a funeral parlor.
He was still bathed in peace and love
despite all the probing and testing that had happened in the morgue.

If the Bible were not true
If I had never been to church
If I had never heard of the Christian faith
I still would believe in a loving, merciful God
because of God's beauty filling my friend's face.

I shall always be grateful for those moments of intimacy in death
when God confirmed to me the majesty of His love and grace.

The IRS Ring

It smiled at me today from my bedside table -
a little diamond ring placed there before I fell asleep.
In the dim light and through my unfocused eyes
it could have been an insect
or a tiny wad of paper
but then its form grew clearer and drew a smile from me -
14 tiny diamonds forming a flower
that sparkles and shimmers in the light.

Long ago a young pretty woman wore it,
thinking she would marry the man who gave it to her,
the man of her dreams.
Something happened within her
that told her she was making a mistake.
I don't know what it was or who she was.
Her fiancee never understood.
She returned it without a word and they never spoke again.

Years later he gave it to his best friend for her birthday.
She chose it from an assortment of gold rings
and other jewelry that belonged to his mother.
I don't know if she ever wore it.
When the relationship soured, she gave it back.

Now it belongs to me along with all the other jewelry that was his.
I was his final friend.
He died before I rejected him like all those
who had gone before.
I don't think I would have.
I made a promise
to walk with him until the end.
I thought it would be within six months or a year.
Instead it was nine years.

His estate is nearly settled now.
I've turned his taxes into the accountant
and written the checks for estimated taxes due.
He always gave me jewelry when I did that.
So this year I had the ring re-sized
to fit my chubby fingers.
Good Job, Pat!! You've worked hard!!

It sparkles whenever I see it -
a little like the twinkle in his eyes
whenever he saw me.

I miss my friend.
I'm lonelier without him
but grateful for the gifts he brought and taught me
patience
listening
an appreciation for beauty
gentleness
an awareness of suffering people and their issues
and how small acts of kindness
make an enormous difference to people who are hidden away.

I am deeply grateful for the gift of friendship and its legacy
that still sparkles
whenever I place the ring on my finger.

The Aftermath

Easter lingers this morning
the loveliness of it all.
Three days of intense services
Last year it peaked on Maundy Thursday.
This year it was Easter Sunday itself
for me anyway
Surprise flowers garnishing the entryway outside!
I noticed it right away -
the white petunias blooming in an old palm tree stump
lilies trumpeting the news of the resurrection
colorful annuals planted in fresh mulch.

Inside there were roses
extravagant, full gorgeous red roses
to fill the cross.
We sang five great Easter hymns
as people streamed forward
and added their flowers to the chorus
Alleluia!!

I had awakened Easter morning
still in the lingering darkness of Good Friday
but (and this is shocking to me!!)
reading the sermon I labored 12 hours to prepare
encouraged my heart
and I felt new life coming into me.
From then on it was all Easter joy.

Tyler, amazing Tyler, sang yesterday
two songs back to back.
By the time he finished You'll Never Walk Alone
there may not have been a dry eye in the sanctuary.
I was glad my speaking parts were over!

We had worship yesterday at St. Stephen
or I did anyway -
glorious, magical, anointed, Spirit led worship
a fitting climax to a most extraordinary week.

Thank you, God
for your great gift of the resurrection
and for turning my stony heart to flesh
in such wondrous ways.

Darkness

I hit the wall on Thursday. There was not a piece of life left within me or so it felt. There was no profound thought for a sermon, no encouraging word for anyone, especially myself, not even a smidgeon of joy. I spent the day in darkness. My mood reflected the weather outside – dark and dreary with nary a patch of blue sky anywhere. I lived the entire day without accomplishing anything of substance. Realizing that I had eaten wheat the day before and that it had caused my despair did nothing to alleviate it.

Sometime in the early morning hours of Friday I saw in my mind’s eye a scene of Jesus on the cross, dying for the sins of the world. We don’t focus much on the suffering Christ as Protestants. We are anxious to move onto the resurrection and victory. Bring on the joy! The darkness has ended! Christ has risen! Shout Alleluia!!

But in the darkness and despair of that early Friday morning I focused on Jesus, hanging on that cross, dying that we might have life. He had come to the end of himself – stuck up there by the worst humanity had to offer, completely and totally vulnerable, laid bare for the taunts of passersby. Only God could change his situation for the better. Of course we know that God did.

Somehow looking at Jesus at the end of himself and knowing that God raised him from the dead, I knew deeply within me that God would also raise me who had come to the end of myself. I placed myself in God’s hands. As the morning light dawned, my spirit began to come alive again. Hope was born. Christ began to arise within me once more. I’m ready to sing alleluias today.

I am learning to be grateful for the gift of darkness when it enters my life, and it does whenever I eat sugar and flour. Knowing sorrow and despair gives me a far greater appreciation of joy when it arises. A friend of mine who suffered from chronic, debilitating pain and spent much time in darkness used to tell me that lilies grow in the valley of darkness, but one must walk there in order to see them. The promise of course is that God is with us in the midst of darkness and will use every situation of our lives for good.

Too often in church we show up on Palm Sunday, sing hosannas and wave palm branches, then return the next Sunday and sing “Jesus Christ Has Risen Today.” We miss the full experience of Easter when we do that. Don’t be afraid of the dark! When we embrace it and walk through it we shall find Easter joy - outrageous joy and the promise of life everlasting.

Wife Swapping

I watched a show on television last night that still haunts me.
I don't remember its name - probably for the best.
The premise is this:
A wife and mother swaps places with another wife and mother
for two weeks.
They move into the other woman's home,
fit in with the family for one week,
and then change the rules for the second week.

One woman was from the Midwest.
She was warm and likeable and hefty in appearance.
She, her husband and four sons live in the country
outside a small town with only 550 people.
They eat fast food,
drive ATVs
and love playing paintball.
They hope their oldest son will win a paintball scholarship
to go to college.
They are flag waving, proud Americans.

The other woman lives in San Francisco
with her husband and two children.
They spend $40,000 annually on private schools,
eat organic
care about the environment
and are physically fit.
The husband is a naturalized citizen from Britain,
more rude and arrogant than anyone I have ever seen,
even in the movies.

Both women were on target with their observations.
The Midwest family needed better health habits,
exposure to some culture (she took them to a college French lesson),
and more helping out around the house.

The San Francisco family needed more time with their children,
and the children needed a sense of play.
Their lives were structured and regimented
with little time for fun or enjoying one another.

Change was not easy for either family.
It was impossible for the San Francisco crowd.
The father in that fashionable home was/is HORRIBLE!
I have never seen such cruelty, rudeness, arrogance and sick behavior.
The Midwest mother was a kind and gentle soul,
and I pray the scars she received from that man will not last.

Although religion was never mentioned,
the San Francisco guy shows us what life looks like without God -
self-centered, judgmental, closed minded to the nth degree.
His abuse was painful to watch.
It still upsets me.

I was treated that way once.
I guess that's why the show bothered me.
It struck a little too close to home.
Maybe that's why I have such a heart for outcasts,
for people who are downtrodden
and can't quite find the American dream.

Matthew Linn says that if we can allow ourselves to be loved by God
in the place of our deepest wound,
that place will become the foundation of a ministry.
I think it's true in my case.
I pray for that arrogant, obnoxious man today
and pray protection for his wife and children.
Somehow, may the light of Christ find him
and soften that petrified, stony heart.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Buttons

I found this movie curious indeed
and more than a little long.
In fact I napped briefly and missed a slice of it in the middle somewhere.
This morning I was startled to discover its nomination
for an Academy Award -
best picture of the year!!
Did I miss something?

So I've been thinking.
My opinion has been colored by a review that gave it only two and a half stars.
That's less than nearly everything.
So what is this little film trying to say?
I had to think a little deeper and to investigate.

Seems it was written by the same guy who wrote Forrest Gump.
Gump was an outsider who sort of meandered through life
dispensing wisdom
and being generally a good and kind person.
Benjamin has those characteristics.
He had every right to be bitter.
After all his mother died in childbirth.
He was discarded by his father as a freak.
He grew up in an old folks home,
and old people are the ultimate outcasts in American society.

The wisdom of those old folks nourished him
and he wasn't a freak there.
He listened.
He was considerate.
He did the right thing.
There was nothing evil or particularly sinful in him.
Even his forays into bordellos were naive and innocent.
He traveled the world,
had a little money
and was generally filled with wonder.
Along the way he dispensed wisdom.

He shows us that everyone is created in the image of God
and worthy of care,
even when their appearance is bizarre.
He made the most out of life,
accepted it as a gift
with gratitude
and an open heart.

May it be so with us, Lord.
May it be so.

Indian Giver

I'm taking a little e-course on World Religions -
not seeking to convert but to strengthen my own faith.
Two days ago there was a snippet that has stayed with me.
It is this.
Native Americans believe every object has a purpose,
every figurine
or book
or towel
or blanket
or anything.
Every thing was designed for a special purpose in life.
If one has a blanket,
it is designed to be used.
If one has six blankets,
one must use all of them.
If someone gives you a blanket and sees that you are using blankets
but not the one he or she gave you,
then you have too many.
The giver can take it away from you.

This has started me thinking
as I look around my cluttered house.
I have thousands of books,
some of them from college forty years ago.
There are dishes and crystal and silver
languishing away in cabinets
that I have not used in twenty years.

And my closet - O my!

How many things do I own that no longer give me pleasure
and lay hidden away?
I've never seen this as a sin.
Perhaps it is.

Perhaps God is calling me to bless the world
by allowing my hidden and forsaken things to fulfill their purpose.
I have new resolve
to clear last year's clutter from the surfaces in my home.
Resolve isn't always enough for me.
May this new year's resolve translate into action
one baby step at a time.

Does anyone need anything?

Charlie Robinson

Charlie Robinson died this week.
He was a prince of a man,
and his death impacted me profoundly for some reason.
I cried and cried and cried
even though I knew his passing was merciful.
He's been lingering and wasting away for years,
the result of strokes that ravaged his body
and left him paralyzed, unable to speak except through a tube.
His wife Bobbie Sue tended him carefully,
loving him,
caring for him,
advocating for him to the end.
It was a lifetime of faithful love.

We last saw Charlie in October.
Forrest and I stopped in for a visit,
and it was as though we had entered another world.
There was peace in that room and joy.
Sunshine flooded the place
and the graciousness that was Charlie Robinson
spilled over into our hearts.

Some people radiate the Christian faith better than others.
He was able to do that
despite all manner of adversity.
There was a sweetness to him
and a gentleness
that warmed my heart.

In his earlier days he was an entrepreneur of world class status,
taking nothing and making it into something fabulous.
He did that with a little mailbox store in a strip shopping center.
Before anyone knew it, it was the biggest in the world,
UPS 4th largest customer in the entire United States.
Forrest and I went with him and Bobbie Sue to California once
where Charlie won every award that was to be given.
There was not enough wall space on which to hang all his awards.

He did it with grace and a smile and a tenacity that was astounding.
When one door closed, he found another one, and then another one.
The man never gave up.

In his heart of hearts he loved God.
He loved Bobbie Sue and cried whenever he spoke of her
or his beloved West Point.
and he was so very proud of his children and grandchildren.

The world will not soon see another man like Charlie Robinson,
elder emeritus in the very best sense of the word,
entrepreneur,
husband and father,
a devoted friend who would never abandon us nor let us go.

It makes me cry to think of saying farewell to Charlie.
He's been a pillar of faith to me in so many ways,
and I have loved him and Bobbie Sue fiercely.
May the angels of heaven rejoice at his coming,
and prepare a place for him in a lovely mansion.
How blessed they will be to know him.
How blessed I am to have been his friend.
Farewell, Charlie, I'll be along before long.

New Year's Miracle

We've had a harrowing six weeks or so with Forrest's kidney stone.
Twice he entered the hospital to have it removed
and both times it was postponed.
For weeks he's been toting powerful pain pills around in his pocket,
necessary if the 6 mm stone tried to exit his body.
Wednesday he tried again to have it removed.
We went down there
he on an empty stomach
no coffee nor anything by mouth after midnight.
He changed into a hospital gown and lay on the bed.
They took him for xrays, then brought him back again.
A nurse put an IV in his arm
and all those things they paste to your chest that monitor your heart.
Finally they gave him a hair net type hat.
He was ready to roll,
but then they paused.
The technician said he needed to talk to the doctor.
When Dr. Mineo came in, he too looked at the xrays.
There was no sign of the giant kidney stone.
It just disappeared, went missing.
Maybe it's hiding somewhere, but we doubt it.
No need to blast something you cannot see.

They puzzled over it, then sent him home.
Happy New Year!
I'm calling it a miracle, a new year's miracle,
an omen I think of good things to come in this new year.

We took the news matter of factly
then went to eat Mexican food at Ninfa's.
In joy and in sorrow Forrest and I eat Mexican food.
This time we gave thanks to God and celebrated with saccharine sweetened iced tea.